Life After You
by jemi-junkie
Summary: AU. Smitchie. Not for the depressed...Read at your own risk...


**_I know I said I couldn't write anymore stories but it's the weekend...and I got bored and depressed..._**

* * *

**LIFE AFTER YOU**

"_Shane…"_

"_Shane…"_

"_Shane…"_

_

* * *

  
_

Every single night, that's all I hear. I'm sure it's her. It's been three long months but her voice still lingers in my head. Her soft, sweet, velvety voice. I don't think it will ever leave. I can almost see her standing there at the doorway smiling at me, or probably sitting there at the dressing table combing her long, raven hair…or lying next to me, propped on her elbow, watching me sleep. I open my eyes but there's no one beside me. The room is empty. Nothing but me, the harsh, cold wind blowing the curtains…and the deafening silence. So I close my eyes again…and will her voice to call my name one more time. Just her voice. That's all I ask.

"_Shane…"_

I wake every day, stand up and feel the cold, marble floor touch my feet. Sometimes, it's the only thing that reminds me that I'm a person. That I'm alive. That I was capable of feelings. That I was capable of love…

* * *

_ "So what's your secret?"_

"_Huh?"She looks up at me from the book she was reading. Something called 'One Hundred Years of Solitude.' Did she read all these depressing books so that she can have a reason to be sad? Because she was truly the happiest person I have ever met._

"_What makes you _so_ happy?"_

_She giggles. "Being alive, Shane." she finally answers._

_Being alive? Hell, I don't remember ever thanking the good Lord for life itself. People tell me I'm a lucky guy having everything I needed…wanted…at arm's length. But I've never felt that way before. _

"_What is it about life?"_

"_I don't know..."she starts, putting her book down on the table, looking thoughtful. "I guess, being free? Having dreams, having opportunities…Can't have those when you're dead and gone, right?"_

"_Right."_

"_What makes _you_ happy, Shane?" she asks, standing up, walking towards me and stops a few inches away from me. She smells like the kitchen. Like when you just finish baking apple pie – that sort of smell. So fresh, so comforting, so…inviting._

"_You."_

_She looks down, shakes her head and smiles._

_But it was true. She's all I ever need to be happy. We were complete opposites, but we got along. She was carefree and I was troubled. She was imaginative and I was a bore. She was beautiful and I was a mess. She loved and I hated. She was thankful, I ungrateful. She was the angel and I was the devil. She was the dream. I was the nightmare. She was alone but she never felt lonely. I have a family, friends, but I always felt alone. She was happy and I was just sad. She…was all I ever needed. She was all I loved._

_

* * *

  
_

I know she loved me, too. I _felt _it. Even if she didn't say a word. Even if she didn't show it. I just know it. That's how strong it was. But life was just unfair…_is _unfair…

* * *

_"Mitchie!"_

"_What?!"_

"_Mitchie! Come here! Our house is flooding!"_

_She appears at the doorway in my blue shirt, her hair held up by a pen. Messy, but cute. _

"_Oh my God!" she exclaims, tip-toeing towards me and the crazy monster of a washing machine. She pulled the plug out immediately._

"_Shane, you'll die of electrocution if you go on like this!" she scolds me, placing her hands on her hips. "Did you use too much detergent again?" she asks me, cocking one brow. I hate it and love it at the same when she does that! It's so condescending…yet sexy._

"_I'm sorry." I say, pouting._

"_It's okay. What's done is done. But what are we going to do with all these bubbles?" she sighs, looking around our kitchen._

"_We could always _play_ in it." I tell her, inching towards her._

_She smiles, walks towards me and encircles her arms around my neck. I wrap my arms around her waist._

_I claim her mouth. She tastes like sweet tea. That's all she ever drinks._

"_Mr. Gray, you have a very dirty mind." she whispers, playfully tapping my nose with her finger._

"_Dirty minds and dirty kitchens go well together."_

_She laughs that distinct laugh of hers – loud…full of life…addicting…contagious…_

"_Shane, whatever are you going to do without me?" she asks, laying her head on my chest._

"_Nothing. I can't live without you."_

"_Shane…" Her smile changes into a frown. "You have to learn how to do these things all by yourself, Shane. What if I'm gone?" she sighs._

_I let go of her. "Stop saying that, Mitchie!"_

_She just shakes her head, sadly._

"_Shane…" she whispers._

_I wait for her to say something more. But she doesn't._

_

* * *

  
_

She was carefree but she was always in a hurry...Like she always had a deadline. She literally lived like there was no tomorrow…

* * *

_"Shane, I've got to finish this." she says, trying to stifle her giggles as I kissed her neck._

"_No you don't." I whisper, nibbling her ear._

"_I do." She says firmly, turning towards me._

"_Mitchie, it's Saturday night. You have got let go of your to do lists."_

_Her eyebrows furrow, then slowly shakes her head. "I can't, Shane. I _really _have to do this."_

"_Fine. Then I'll do it with you."_

_She smiles. "I think that's a brilliant idea."_

_I take the book she was reading from her hand. This time it was 'Atonement.'_

"_Where'd you end?" I ask her, looking at the book. How could she do this all day? I'm looking at the pages for a minute and my vision already blurs._

"_Right…there." she says, pointing at a point on the page._

_I start reading. Surprisingly I become engrossed in this book she's so interested in. I must have read at least ten pages before I looked at her and found her sound asleep, contentment all over her face. I don't wake her up. Never mind her to do lists. After all, she was the carefree Mitchie that I know and love. If she gets mad at me tomorrow morning, I can live with that. Besides, it will only take a moment for her to forgive me._

_So I put my arms around her, breathe in her scent, and fall into deep slumber._

_

* * *

  
_

I look outside the window, the sun blaring at my eyes. It takes a while for them to adjust and then I see this little boy outside. He was probably six or seven. He had black hair, freckles. He was chubby. Something the girls would call 'cute' and would pinch all over. He was on his bike. A red and blue one. Something that looked similar to one I had when I was younger. For a moment, I forget the misery I was feeling as I watched him. The little boy rode his bike, his little legs moved so fast, I could barely see them, his face scrunched up, determined. His cheeks were red, his brow sweaty. There was really no reason to be speeding up. He was all alone. He wasn't racing with anyone and I'm pretty sure there was no one after him.

There was really no end to the area he was biking in. Just the part where the sidewalk ends. He could have always gone to the other street. But he didn't. He sort of reminded me of Mitchie. Always in a hurry. But never the risk taker. Like she was tied up by something…

I hear a woman yell. "Tim!" she goes. "Don't you dare cross the street on that bike, you hear me?!" Maybe he _was_ like Mitchie – being held back by circumstances they had no control of…

* * *

_ "Shane, it hurts."_

"_I know, sweetie."I whisper as I hug her._

"_No, you don't." she cries and winces. "You don't."_

_I let go of her. I hate seeing her like this! She was on our bed, hunched up in a fetal position. I couldn't tell what part of her body hurt. _

"_Let me help you."_

"_There's nothing you can do." That was the worst part – there was nothing I could do. But I swear if there was a way I could take all the pain from her, I would. _

_I shouldn't have agreed on us going hiking. But she seemed to really want to so what was I supposed to do? And besides, with her charm, she could convince anyone. But now I see it was a huge mistake._

"_I told you we shouldn't have gone on that stupid hike!" I say, almost hissing._

"_It's…okay. I…had…fun." she was able to blurt out amidst the pain._

_How could she say that?!_

"_Mitchie, what do you need?"_

"_Nothing."_

"_Painkillers?" I suggest, praying she'd agree._

"_You know I…I can't take them." she whimpers._

"_Then I'll take you to the hospital." I say, nearing her._

"_No!" she screams. "This will pass…I promise."_

_I give up. My mind goes blank for a while. I have to do something. I grab her book. Love in the time of Mononucleosis or something. I start reading to her._

"_Thank you…" she whispers sobbing, her eyes still shut, her body still curled up._

_I want to hold her and kiss her right then and there but I knew if I touched her I would hurt her even more._

_

* * *

  
_

How can someone who has gone through so much pain, so much anguish, still be able to see the beauty in even the most mundane things.

How could think about the needs of others before hers? Things could have gone well for her…for us. For me…

* * *

"_I wish I had good news, Mitchie…Shane…"_

_She just looks down and fidgets with her fingers. I knew she knew how this conversation was going to end._

"_How bad is it?" I ask._

"_Mitchie, you should have gotten that transplant when you had the chance…"_

"_Stop…please…" she says, her voice breaking._

_I know she doesn't want to talk about it. "How…how much time do we have left?" I ask, even if I didn't want to. But I had to._

"_A couple of months…A year. Two years. It all depends on Mitchie. How her body responds…There's always dialysis. But if another donor comes along, I suggest you take it." the doctor replies, looking at Mitchie._

_She just nods and says nothing more._

"_How long will it take for another donor to come along?" I ask._

"_That's indefinite."_

_I wanted to punch the damn doctor in the face! I wanted to yell at Mitchie for not grabbing the chance when she had it! I wanted to kill myself for not being a match for her! I would seriously give her one of my kidneys! Even both if I had to! Stupid science! I wished her parents went to hell for dying so early, for being so selfish not giving her any siblings for fear of having yet another child with Mitchie's illness! Screw God for even making that disease exist! I wanted to curse that little girl who's robbing Mitchie of her life. Robbing _me _of the love of my life._

_But I just sat there and cried silently_

_

* * *

  
_

"_It's so unfair!" I say, hammering my fist onto the dining table._

_She hugs me from behind, her hand tightly holding my chest, her cheek resting on my back. "It's not, Shane. It's only fair."_

"_How could you say that?!" I hiss._

"_I've lived, Shane. I've had the best years of my life. That little girl has her whole life ahead of her."_

"_How could you do that Mitchie?!" I yell, turning towards her. I wanted to ask her how she could do this to me. But I didn't_

_She looks at me, scared. I've been yelling at her a lot these days. _

"_I'm sorry." I say, calming down. "This is just so…so frustrating."_

"_I'm sorry too." she says, cupping my face in her small, cold hands. "But that little girl needs it more than I do."_

_I take her hand from my cheek, kiss it and then cry into it._

"_Everything's going to be okay…"_

_I really want to believe her. But how could she say that? I, the physically strong, was almost giving up. She, the weakling, was still ready to endure whatever comes our way…her way._

"_Don't leave me." I beg her._

_She doesn't answer._

"_Please."_

"_I won't."_

_But I knew she was just saying that. But at least I know that this time she was trying to fight._

_

* * *

  
_

But it was a painful struggle for her. How could I have been so selfish? I thought I was taking good care of her…

* * *

_I hear crunching as I walk along the hallway. I find Mitchie sitting on the couch, watching a Jim Carrey movie, laughing her heart out and eating pickles. Pickles?!  
_

"_Mitchie!"_

_She jumps and looks up at me shocked._

"_Hi Shane!" she grins at me._

"_What are you doing?" I ask her like she was a child._

"_Watching a movie. Wanna join me?" she says, making room, patting the space on her right side._

"_Not that, I meant _this._" I hiss, grabbing the bottle of pickles on the table. "You know you're not supposed to be eating this!"_

"_Shane…I just had one…And it's just today, I promise." she says, guilty._

"_Okay…" I breathe a sigh of relief. "That's enough." I say, putting the lid of the bottle on._

"_Shane, you're killing me!" she yells. I look at her. She's steaming._

"_What?"_

"_Can't I do anything around here anymore without you hovering?!"_

"_Mitchie, I'm just looking out for you."_

"_I know." Tears stream down her cheeks. "But it's too much. Shane, I already feel locked up and you're making it worse. I can still take care of myself, you know?"_

_That's when I realized I was doing all this for me. Because I wanted her to be okay for me. Selfish!  
_

_

* * *

  
_

She was so ready to let go. I was still holding on…

* * *

_ I watch Mitchie on the bed, asleep. She was holding her breath._

"_Mitchie?"_

"_Mmhmm?" she breathes out._

"_What are you doing?"_

"_Shhh…I'm trying to see how it feels like?" she whispers, eyes closed._

"_Feels like to be what?" _

"_To be dead."_

"_Mitchie…" I start again, in that reprimanding tone._

"_What?" she says opening her eyes._

"_Stop it, okay?" I snap._

_She closes her eyes again._

"_You think I'll go to heaven?"_

"_Mitchie, you are not going to die, okay?"_

"_Everyone's going to die, Shane."_

"_Fine, but you're not leaving me anytime soon."_

"_Who said I was leaving you?"_

"_It's just because you always say these _things…_It scares me."_

"_There's nothing to be afraid of, Shane." she says, caressing my face._

"_I love you, Mitchie."_

"_I love you too…more than my life."_

_

* * *

  
_

All those times, she was just trying to say goodbye in the gentlest way she can…And as the old saying goes, all things must come to an end…

* * *

_"Mitchie, time to get up now." I open the curtains, let the sunshine in, and bring a little cheer inside the gloomy place that was once 'our room.'_

"_Mitchie?"_

_Her shoulders shuddered. I walk to her side, and kneel on the floor. This time, her face was pale and sallow, her cheekbones protruding, the bags under her eyes darker, her lips pale. I barely recognize her but she has always been the Mitchie who had been confined in this room, on this bed for the past two months. The Mitchie that I knew and loved._

"_Shane, I'm tired." she says. I could barely hear her voice._

"_I know, sweetie. But you have to get up now. We have a dialysis appointment later."_

"_I can't anymore."_

"_What do you mean you can't?" I ask her, like what she said was the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard._

"_I just can't." she says, pulling the covers tighter around her fragile body._

"_Yes you can." I say, taking her hand holding it real right. Maybe I'll pass on my strength to her...  
_

"_Shane, I'm not getting any better…" _

_I let go of her hand. It was true. In fact, she was getting worse day by day._

"_So you just want to stay here and die?" I wanted to yell at her again, but my voice broke._

"_Yes."_

"_But, baby, I need you." I say, grabbing her hands again._

"_You don't, Shane. You're just saying that." she says, placing her frail, cold hand on my cheek._

"_But I really do. I love you."_

"_I know you do. But you don't need me. You're strong, Shane."_

"_I'm not. I'm not!"_

"_You _have_ to be. For me. I _need _you to be strong for me. Because I can't hold on much longer. I have to go."_

_

* * *

  
_

I wanted to tell her that she could hold on but I knew that just wasn't the case. Tears sting my eyes as I remember that day.

My thoughts are broken by the sound of the door bell ringing. Is it silly for me to expect it would her? Before I open the door, I wish it was her – giving me that bright smile of hers, telling me "I'm okay!" in that sing-song voice of hers that makes everything all better. I open the door and instead find this old lady, dressed in a long brown skirt and a black shirt. Her silver gray hair tied into a neat bun.

"I'm Olivia." she introduces herself. "You called for me?" she reminds me.

"Right."

"Where is she?"

"In the bedroom." I tell her, leading her to our private place – mine and Mitchie's.

"I can feel her. I can tell she spent a lot of time in this room."

I nod.

* * *

I never really believed in paranormal things. Not even as a young boy. I didn't believe in ghosts. Not because if I did it would scare the living daylights out of me. I just didn't. But for some reason, I do now. Maybe because it's the only way I can hold on to Mitchie. I don't know if I could go on like this forever. But right now, that's what I want to do. It's just that at these moments, I need to be reminded that Mitchie was real…_is_ real…and is here telling me that everything's going to be okay, that I did the right thing. I need to know that she did exist...and that while she did, she loved me.

* * *

**END**

_**

* * *

**_

_**I was reading my medical-surgical nursing text the past few days and then I watched 90210, the one where Kelly and Silver's mom died...and then someone else died...and Channing from So You Think You Can Dance got voted off...I just got depressed...and I really miss Jemi/Smitchie so much! So I wrote this. I'm crazy and random, like that.**_

_**It's not really Smitchie, but I can't really use another couple...  
**_

_**And I know this is a far far cry from my last story but please, don't hate me!**_

_**Comments/critiques always welcome and appreciated.  
**_


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